


Fons Amoris

by id_ten_it



Category: NCIS
Genre: Easter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 23:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_ten_it/pseuds/id_ten_it
Summary: Gibbs endures a choral concert for his man. Ducky endures a bored child.





	Fons Amoris

Jethro, after much wrangling, had managed to get himself and Ducky to the penultimate performance of Jenkins’ ‘Stabat Mater’. There were many shorter choral items performed in the first half and by the looks of things Ducky was enjoying himself. Jethro just hoped he wasn’t too annoyed by the jumpy child two rows back. He frowned when Ducky moved during intermission, standing and looking around a little testily. Ducky usually wasn’t quite so active. Usually he sat and absorbed the first half, and prepared for the second. Sometimes he didn't even stand. 

However, all Ducky did in the end was crook a finger at the now rapidly moving small boy, who trotted over, with nary a glance to his parents.

“Young man, I’ve called you over to ask you a question.” Ducky smiled and passed him a square of the chocolate that Jethro had brought in with him. “I was wondering if you would answer it for me?” The boy tried to balance on the top of the folding seats and failed, tumbling off and scrambling up. “I can try, Mister.”

“That’s all I ask.” Ducky nodded. “Do you know what language they will be singing the next piece in?”

“No, I don’t. The same old one as before?” The boy looked less than interested, flicking the chair up and down moodily.

“Well, it’s several languages actually. One is the language of gladiators, one of pirates, one of magicians, one of travelling people. The last is English, the language of space, time and adventure.” The boy was now looking up at the man who was putting some feeling into this concert he’d been dragged to. His tone remained as depressed as his shoulders. “But I can’t understand it like at the movies. There are no pictures!”

Ducky sighed but smiled. “When I was your age we didn’t have any movies so we were stuck with things like this. I will grant you though that back then they had a bit more movement.”

The boy gaped, perfectly still, “no movies! No TV? Did you even have cars?”

“Just. We usually rode.”

“Motorbikes?”

“Horses.”

“Wow....” he swallowed the last of the chocolate and looked at Ducky with wide eyes similar to Jethro. Jethro was thinking what he often thought - what a pity there had been no grandchildren.

“So will there be a battle?”

Ducky smiled. “There’ll certainly be a story. I can offer you the programme if you don’t...”

“We’ve got one, thanks. But I’m not allowed to look at it.” He looked a little crestfallen.

“Aren’t you? That is a shame. You take this one...have this pen too. Draw down what you hear.”

The calling bell went and the boy took them with thanks, smiling round the last square of chocolate that Ducky had given him. “Thankyou, sir!” then he scampered back up to settle down.

“Ducky...”

“I’m sorry, Jethro. I know you bought me that programme, but I _had_ to keep him quiet,”

“That wasn’t the problem. If I wriggle, do I get a pen so I can draw you a picture? You can stick it on the fridge...”

“Write me a story.” Ducky muttered, settling back and clapping the conductor. His blue eyes flashed as he named a particularly salacious Aria they'd had in the first half,  "we’ll re-enact it afterwards.”


End file.
